Sunday, January 19, 2014

The Market Whore

I’m sitting here at home, on this lovely Sunday afternoon, enjoying a fruit salad and some cucumber sandwiches. How much did I pay for my vegetables and fruit? Nothing. Why? Because I’m the market whore.

Thats right, I said it. Whore. I sold myself for this delicious produce; and you know what? I’d do it again. There’s no shame in my game. So what services did I provide in exchange for a light lunch? Simple: companionship, delightful chit chat, some good laughs, and butt grabs. The market venders like to feel me up. Especially the older ladies. Sometimes they only pat, sometimes they grab. I never know what I’m going to get.

Why do I allow myself to be such a cheap whore, you ask? Well because it means I’ve integrated into my community. The butt pats and grabs are all coming from older women and the fact that they do it to me means that they’ve accepted me into their community and lives. They do it to each other and their favorite customers as well, so I’m not alone in this casual produce exchange. I’m just part of the community.

When I first arrived here at site I made my way over to the market. I perused the stalls and attempted to talk with the venders. I asked prices and decided who I would be giving my business to. And decide I did. I’m a loyal customer, it costs very little to get me to go to your stall. You simply have to be kind with me. My veggie lady always gives me a little something extra, be it a potato, a carrot, or simply not weighing the veggies and under estimating the cost. My tofu lady always quizzes me on my Thai and laughs with me, asking if I’ve run yet today. My fruit lady pats my butt and arm and picks out the best quality fruit for me.

Little things they did attracted me to them, and now even when their produce or tofu isn’t the best available I still go to them. I love my market ladies, and they molest me in return. Slipping me extra fruit, veggies, or tofu. Yes, I’m a cheap whore. But I’m a loyal one!

1 comment:

  1. Haha very well put! For me, I tolerate (and sometimes enjoy) the arm-squeezes from my middle-aged, snaggle-toothed veggie vendor. I do it for the salad =P

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